


The Wilde Job

by firefly124



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Leverage, Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Gen, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Torchwood cold case becomes the Leverage team's new case.  A con within a con ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wilde Job

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Torchwood Fest](http://torchwood-fest.livejournal.com) [Post-Christmas Blues Fest](http://torchwood-fest.livejournal.com/56718.html) on LiveJournal. Thanks to [Angela Snape](http://angela-snape.insanejournal.com) and [Jooles34](=jooles34.livejournal.com) for beta-reading on incredibly short notice.

“You disappoint me, Captain Harkness,” Miss Holroyd said as she wrote something suitably unflattering about him, only looking up once she'd ended her sentence. “I should have thought you of all people could have … convinced your friend to disclose the whereabouts of the artifact.”

“That's assuming that the artifact ever existed,” Jack retorted. “If it ever did, he doesn't have it now. Either that or it's really, really broken.”

Looking in on former lovers wasn't something Jack did often for a number of reasons. Finding them old before their time and ground down by this century's insane moral code was only one of them. For Oscar, though, he'd made an exception, and not just because Torchwood had ordered him to.

“His belongings were thoroughly searched during his imprisonment,” Guppy put in. “However, there was always the chance he'd foreseen such a possibility and hidden it away. Not the sort of thing one would care to leave lying about.”

“For all we know,” Holroyd added, “he gave it to you, and that's the cause of your … unique condition.”

“Gotta say, that'd be one ugly painting by now,” Jack said. “You're barking up the wrong tree.”

“Perhaps,” Holroyd said. “Perhaps not. In any event, a more pressing matter has arisen.”

Jack took the slip of paper from her without looking at it. He could tell from her tone he'd like it even less than this last one.

“Meanwhile, if you find that anything jogs your memory,” she said, “you will tell us, won't you?”

Jack didn't bother to dignify that with a response as he turned and left. It was always best not to actually lie to them.

He also very carefully left his secure bolt-hole alone for several decades, just to be on the safe side.

~0~

Parker slid into the booth next to Hardison, who was still furiously typing away at … something on his laptop. Eliot, Sophie noticed, was the last to arrive. He strode over to the table, his arms spread wide.

“Where's the client?”

“Wales,” Nate replied.

Parker looked at him oddly. 

“Not the animals,” Sophie put in. “The country.”

“Oh.” Parker looked down at her hands and twisted her fingers together. “I knew that.”

“I thought we were done with the international intrigue,” Hardison said. “Or are we trying to avoid somebody?”

“We're trying to help an old friend of Sophie's,” Nate said.

Sophie thought that was putting it rather strongly, but considering that it was a friend of her cousin's, both of whom were definitely old, it would do.

“What's the deal?” Eliot asked.

“It's not our usual sort of thing,” Sophie admitted. “Missing family heirloom, actually. Bit of what you'd call a cold case.”

“How cold?” Parker asked.

“Nineteenth century,” Nate replied.

“That's not cold,” Hardison said, finally closing his laptop and giving Nate one of his looks. “That's the last ice age. We'd be lucky to find any kind of records in hard copy, never mind anything I could dig up online. How exactly can we help here?”

“Actually,” Nate said with that smile that Sophie had come to recognize as his tell when pulling in a mark, “they've got a government agency that was looking for it at the time, and they're notorious for having everything, and I do mean everything, documented in a massive and heavily encrypted database. Supposedly not even UNIT has ever been able to crack it.”

“You mean …?” Hardison's eyes lit up, rather as Sophie had suspected they might, even as Parker and Eliot looked even more confused.

“I mean, let's go steal Torchwood.”

Sophie wasn't sure whether to be surprised, amused, or worried by the expressions on her three teammates' faces.

~0~

“Jack,” Tosh's voice carried into his office, tearing his attention away from ogling the CCTV feed from the archives. “Someone's trying to hack in.”

“Someone's always trying to hack in,” he replied as he turned back to the screen, disappointed to see that Ianto had already finished whatever he'd been doing with the bottom drawer of that cabinet. Ah well. There was always later. “Send them packing. We need to focus on that data from the last Rift spike.”

“I have.” Tosh made a noise of exasperation. “Several times now. This one's actually pretty good.”

Well, that was annoying.

Jack went over to have a look. “Haven't they worked out that you're onto them?”

“I don't think they care.”

A picture of a Tell'grottan popped up on the screen holding an oddly shaped weapon and belting out something in a language vaguely like Conewslifan. Jack didn't realize he'd said any of that out loud until Tosh giggled.

“It's a Klingon, Jack. Obviously we've got a serious geek on our hands.” She was enjoying this way too much.

“Can you at least tell where they are?” 

“They're using something that's blocking my usual … there! Not far at all. That coffee shop on the Bay in fact.” Tosh's brow furrowed. “They're using the shop's wireless? To hack in here? That shouldn't be possible.”

“Neither should hacking us in the first place.”

“They haven't got any of our data,” Tosh said. “At least, not that I can tell.”

The “Klingon” still raging across her primary monitor didn't bode well, Jack thought. He touched his earpiece.

“Owen, Gwen, get over to that coffee shop across the Plass. Someone in there is trying to hack Mainframe.”

“Well, it's not like they can get in, can they?” Gwen asked tinnily.

“Is that Lieutenant Worf in the background?” Owen asked. “You running us around to do all the work while you do fuck-all and watch a Star Trek marathon?”

“Just go!” Jack growled.

A chime sounded, alerting them that someone was trying to enter the Tourist Information Centre while it was unstaffed. To the side, one of the monitors lit up with a picture of a rather mismatched couple knocking at the door and peering in the window. Funny, tourists weren't usually that persistent.

Then he looked again.

“Those aren't tourists,” he murmured, “and this isn't a coincidence.”

“Jack?” Tosh asked.

Jack touched his earpiece again. “Ianto, put on the kettle. We've got guests.”

“Of course,” Ianto replied in a tone that could mean anything or nothing at all. In the background, a rather too-firmly shut drawer suggested he was less than pleased by the interruption. “Any idea how many? Or what species?”

“Humans,” Jack said. “At least three, maybe four.”

“Is that Star Trek I hear in the background?” Ianto asked.

Jack just tapped off his earpiece and started for the cog door. There was no way Lady Catherine was playing tourist in Cardiff today, at the exact same time as someone was playing at getting into Mainframe, of that much he was certain.

~0~

Sophie was almost ready to give up. Either the Torchwood team were all out on a mission or they'd stopped using the Tourist Information Centre as a front.

“We may have to try a different approach,” she said to Nate. “There's always been speculation about that water tower. Might be worth trying over there.”

The door behind them opened.

“Sorry, folks, we've been closed for renovations,” said a startlingly familiar American voice.

Sophie's stomach twisted. That was a complication she'd hoped, if not outright expected, to avoid. 

Nate turned first, taking the role they'd planned originally, and there wasn't time to warn him off.

“Hi, ah, my name's Jimmy Papadacoulos, and this is my lovely wife, Karen. Say hello, Karen.” 

Sophie turned and gave the Captain one of her brightest smiles but didn't say a word.

“She's a shy one, my Karen. Blushing bride, you know. Anyway, we're here on our honeymoon, and we were wondering ...”

“So it's Karen these days?” Harkness asked.

“Not generally, no,” Sophie replied, stepping forward determined to work this to their advantage. “I'd heard you were away.”

“Your information's out of date.”

“So I see.”

Nate turned and gave her a questioning look but remained gratifyingly silent.

Sophie let her eyes wander along Harkness' body slowly before returning to his eyes.

“Whatever it is you're here after, you might as well forget it,” Harkness said. “But never let it be said that we weren't hospitable. Come in.”

He stepped aside, holding the door open so that they could enter. To the right of the counter, a door clearly meant to look like part of the wall hung ajar.

“This wasn't part of the plan,” Nate hissed in her ear.

“The game's changed,” she whispered back. “Just follow my lead.”

“I always do.”

“If only that were true,” she murmured as she brushed carefully past the Captain on her way inside. She couldn't help but notice he still wore that same irresistible cologne. She hoped he hadn't changed much else either.

~0~

Jack took stock of his “guests.” The skinny hacker and shaggy muscle Gwen and Owen had dragged in were clearly the hired help. He just couldn't work out whether Lady Catherine or “Jimmy” was actually in charge.

“You have a pterodactyl,” the hacker said again.

“Pteranodon, actually,” Ianto corrected.

“Let it go, Hardison,” the shaggy one said.

“Let it … That thing out there should've been extinct millions of years ago, it's flying around out there and, can I just point out, not attacking the meals on legs walking by, and you want me to let it go?”

“Yes,” the other three replied, Lady Catherine adding a little eye-roll for emphasis.

It occurred to Jack that she and Ianto would get along well. He wondered if he could find out just how well. As Ianto finished serving everyone's drinks and left the room again, Jack cleared his throat and filed that idea away for later.

“So, is this everybody?” Jack asked. “I'd hate to think we were leaving anyone thirsty.”

“I don't think there's any danger of that,” Sophie replied.

“Then let's cut right to it,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and sending a look of gratitude after Ianto. “What brings you to my doorstep with disturbingly accurate, if out of date, information as to who is and isn't here?”

He saw Catherine feign a sip of her tea. Oh, she was good. Just not quite as good as she thought she was. There wasn't any Retcon in the tea, of course. He'd decide later whether that would be necessary or not.

“I believe you may have an item that belongs to an old family friend,” she said at last.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Is this 'old family friend' an alien?”

“Not that I'm aware of,” she replied.

“Alien?” the hacker mouthed.

“Then we don't have it,” Jack said. “No point dancing around the subject, since you obviously know what we do here.”

“Why didn't you just contact us and ask?” This from Gwen. “I mean, obviously you know Jack.”

“Precisely,” said Lady Catherine, her lips twisting into a smirk. “We've met.”

“It was worth a try,” said the one who called himself Jimmy with a shrug, though his eyes darted back and forth between Jack and Catherine sharply.

“What was it that was worth all this?” Owen asked. “’Cause you're not convincing me you went to all this trouble over something with just 'sentimental value.'”

“That doesn't really matter, since you don't have it,” Lady Catherine pointed out, setting down her cup.

The three other guests seemed to startle at the sound. A moment later, Ianto returned with a blonde woman in a cat-suit.

Jack grinned.

“You know, somehow I had a feeling we were missing someone. Where'd you find her?”

“Rummaging through the archives,” Ianto replied in a pained voice that made clear exactly what he thought of the state of them. “The _early_ archives.”

Jack cast a look at Lady Catherine.

“I did say it was an _old_ family friend.”

Jack sighed. “Find what you were looking for?”

“No,” the blonde woman replied sullenly.

“Well, then,” said 'Jimmy,’ a bit anxiously, “we'll just be on our merry way. No harm, no foul, right?”

Jack looked at him incredulously for a moment, then shrugged. “Next time, just call and ask.”

“And miss all the fun?” Lady Catherine asked with a wink as she picked up her purse.

Jack shook his head and rose to escort them all out. When he returned, he asked Toshiko to keep an eye on them all until they were safely out of the country. For good measure, he asked her to put all their faces on the CCTV alert system. Might as well get some warning next time, and he was almost certain there would be a next time.

~0~

Back at the hotel, Hardison was still babbling about the inside of the Torchwood base, Eliot was threatening to permanently remove his ability to babble about anything and Nate just looked resigned.

“Did you get it?” Sophie asked.

Parker gave her one of those uniquely Parker looks and slid the canvas out from her sleeve. “Of course I did.”

“You just ...” Hardison gaped and pointed. “We just walked right out of Torchwood with one of their alien artifacts?”

“It was never an alien artifact,” Sophie said. “Just a very old misunderstanding.”

“I don't know,” Parker said. “Seemed like it hadn't been there as long as the rest of the stuff in that section. Like someone put it there much later.”

“I thought you said their physical archives were organized chronologically,” Nate said.

“I did,” Hardison replied. He shrugged. “Doesn't mean they actually put things away in order. Do I look like I can control these kinds of things? I can't even make y'all change your email passwords on a regular basis. It's embarrassing.”

Sophie waved all that away and unrolled the canvas, examining it carefully.

“So there really was a 'Picture of Dorian Gray'?” Nate asked. 

“Of a sort,” Sophie replied. She rolled it back up. “They'll be pleased to finally have it back in the family.”

“How'd you even find it?” Eliot asked. “Hardison said there was a ton of stuff in there, and the file codes didn't make any sense.”

“Oh, that part was easy.”

Sophie smiled and let Parker tell her story, even if she suspected there was a bit more to it than that.

~0~

Jack was just putting the finishing touches on the last of his paperwork for the night when Ianto came into his office. No coffee at this hour, just him, and he perched on the corner of the desk, craning his neck to see which set of papers Jack was on or possibly to be sure he'd completed them properly.

“Something you wanted to ask?” 

“No … well, yes.” Ianto straightened but didn't stand. “Am I to understand that if I want my sister's great-grandchildren to obtain possession of a completely harmless item, I should bring it to Torchwood's attention by writing a novel implying that it has alien properties to ensure it's stored away until you can manipulate yet another fellow con artist into retrieving it?”

Jack set his pen down and looked up at him. He should've realized Ianto, at least, would have worked it out. “No one ever said it was harmless or didn't have alien properties. Just that Lady Catherine's 'family friend' wasn't an alien. Neither was Oscar Wilde, by the way, just in case you were wondering.”

“I stand corrected.”

Jack wasn't sure he wanted to parse the look in Ianto's eyes. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, but it was a bit too sharp to be called wistful either.

“You could just ask,” Jack said. “And I doubt I'd have to wait over a century to deliver, or make as big a deal of it.”

“I dunno,” Ianto said. He leaned in and whispered, “Somehow, the idea of a bit of intrigue lasting that long has its appeal.”

Jack caught his chin and drew their lips together before he could say anything else. If it was intrigue he wanted, they could plot something out. Later.

Much, much later.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks also to Patsfan (aka The Spousal Unit) for introducing me to Oscar Wilde's [_The Picture of Dorian Gray_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Picture_of_dorian_gray) when I was casting about for a suitable artifact of interest to both teams, which would obviously have been a tad spoilery to mention up front.


End file.
